


Amongst the Living

by FrolickinginWonderland



Category: Last of the Mohicans (1992)
Genre: Alice/Uncas - Freeform, Angst and Romance, Bonding, Death, Death of sibling, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Minor Original Character(s), One Shot, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Build, Uncas/Alice - Freeform, film-based, grieving together, last of a tribe, last of the Mohicans - Freeform, might add more chapters but no promises
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2019-01-23 21:46:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12517264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrolickinginWonderland/pseuds/FrolickinginWonderland
Summary: My prompt:  What happens when Hawkeye is slain and Cora steps off the precipice, leaving Alice and Uncas to grieve and comfort each other?





	Amongst the Living

**Author's Note:**

> For my sister's birthday- she loves the story of Alice and Uncas as much as I do.
> 
> It's a tear jerker so... be prepared!
> 
> <3 Reviews get a virtual cupcake! <3

"Have no fear." His voice was sure and warm, as strong as the pungent, clean odor of the willow bark that he boiled for her wounds. They were just scratches, long scrapes down her arms and some on her legs from clambering up to the promontory. She had scarcely known the pain as she pushed herself desperately forward, agonized at the myriad of possible scenes of blood and death that awaited her. Nothing could have prepared her for the scene that was about to unfold. She had wanted, so very badly, to look away. For if he had been killed- murdered, before her young eyes, she would not have been able to go on. She would not have been able to bear it silently. 

All her life, Alice had been the quiet one. Always making up for her sister's outbursts, Alice had settled for meek and gentle, in the sincere wish to both please her father and remind Cora of her worshipful support. But now her sister Cora had died, and willingly so, after Hawkeye bore the blow that was meant for Uncas. Cora had died so peacefully, as if she had not for the past twenty years lived as willfully as a child every day. 

Alice had no roots left. None save her own strength, the gentle hand of Uncas on her shoulder, and his father to guide them. Not even the support of a long dead people, the Mohicans, could offer any solace. Alice was the last of her family, and Uncas would soon be the last of his. They had nothing left. 

Alice was lost in reverie, as was her wont. It was her escape. For sixteen years she had lived in her sister's shelter, nodded and agreed like a puppet to please her father, smiled and danced like an iced petit four all for the memory of her dear mother. All the while desperately trying to keep a smile on, ever since the death. Alice did not lie to herself and say she was strong enough. She was nothing of the sort. Cora was strong. Cora was bull-headed like her father. It was Alice that took after her delicate, sweet mother. It was Alice who should have died this day. And yet here Alice was, alive, hissing in pain as Uncas wrapped another wet, hot piece of willow bark along her wrist and up to her elbow. If anyone was strong enough to bear this wilderness with a smile, it was Cora. 

The hot pain brought her back; she determined not to make a sound and barely glanced at the next strand Uncas wrapped around her blood-stained shoulder. 

"You have no fear?" His gentle voice was by no means effeminate. The look in his eyes was part grief, part kindness, and part curious. Alice suddenly remembered that he had lost a beloved brother that day, not just her her sister. She swallowed, humbled by his care towards her and his lack of despair- a despair that she had been struggling not to let overcome her since the stockade. With a voice that sounded raspy and ill-used to her own ears, Alice replied, "You," her voice faltered, she scarcely recognized words anymore, "You who have cared for me are still here. Taking care yet again." She searched his eyes, hardly caring that she was bold. For Uncas was not English. He was not Duncan. He would not tease her for speaking so. He would listen and respond in kind. It was in his nature to care, to be kind. He was not an English gentleman. 

The fact comforted yet terrified her. After a long pause, Uncas did not look away, simply gazed back at her with his strong, open face that spoke of pain blended through many days in the sun and long nights staring at stars. She could see the sweat lodges where he and the other men would hum while smoking pipes- she could see all of his history reflected in his eyes. Alliances, battles, pain pounded into him until he was supple and giving as a warm summer rain. Alice's heart was broken, pummeled into a thousand shards of glass that she carried in her hands until they sliced so deep that they were lost inside her, giving her no rest. She was weary and breaking all in front of Uncas, who knew more suffering than she had seen in this short past week. Dear God, had it only been a week since her boot had touched this wild, blood soaked territory? She gazed up at Uncas and unknowingly reached out to him, her hand gripping his rope sling across his chest like it would bring the dead to life. He grasped her smaller hand in his own, the warm press of it on hers lessening the abject horror of the past five days, and felt him move to splay her palm across his chest, across his beating heart. Alice could have cried. 

"It is good you want to live." He spoke, his words raw and brutal, yet eloquent in their honesty, his eyes full of memories and tastes and sights that she could not know yet, but would surely become a part of, if she stayed. She vowed to stay. 

Uncas smelled of life, he smelled of dried blood and sweat and pine juice smeared across his skin from their trek down the precipice. She had slipped many times, scraping her arms as she went, always crashing into him, her mind numb and skin numb. The little scratches had felt good in the beginning, but now she was sore. He had helped her, even as she had stared, stone cold at the edge where her sister had just... walked off. 

He had always helped her. She looked up, recognizing his gesture for what it was. She had known, ever since the waterfall, what he was trying to tell her when he silently stood by her. Whenever he had silently taken her in his arms and rocked her, it was not out of brotherly care. It was deeper, richer. 

She looked up, nodding in silent reverence. His heartbeat was strong and steady against her hand. She wished it to ever be so. Even as they both mourned their dead, they were firmly a part of the living. "I would stay." She finally found her voice. "With you." She would accept his bond and offer her own. It was a treaty, though it felt much more honest, much more clean and pure than what she had seen her father do. "We will remember your brother and my sister and we will stay alive." She almost laughed hysterically. For as long as possible, in this brutal, wonderful place. We will stay alive. 

Uncas curled his fingers slowly around her own and she paused, the sensation carried low and steady through her bloodstream like a pulse, their hearts beating in time to each other's, with the promise of something more.


End file.
